Every Now and Then
by crystalix
Summary: BA Ficlet: “Every now and then, people do stupid things. Mine, in this case, was that last martini”


Title: Every Now and Then

Author: crystalix

Rating: T+ (for language and sexual references)

Summary: B/A Ficlet: "Every now and then, people do stupid things. Mine, in this case, was that last martini"

Pairing: Buffy/Angel

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and co.

Distribution: Please ask first!

A/N: Inspired by "Fifteen Minute Ficlets", the word was "Glisten". Lol, don't ask how long it actually took, I couldn't' just leave it as a _small unfinished _ficlet could I?

A/N2: Just so you know, this is an AU ficlet told from Buffy's POV. It just popped into my head (clearing the blockage once again), and all the characters are human. (Yippee!)

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Every Now and Then

Every now and then, people do stupid things.

Now, I'm not talking about jumping off a three story building or hitting yourself over the head with a hammer, I'm talking about those little things that you don't even realize you've done until hours or maybe even days later, and all you can do is curse and kick yourself in the ass for it, while you frantically attempt to fix your mistake.

Mine, in this case, was that last martini.

That last martini I had at that last bar last night, that my friends drag me to every now and then in a pathetic attempt to get me dating. It's not that I don't like guys or anything- it's just all that I've met so far have either been horny, cocky, a jerk, gay, or married. Which, as you've probably figured out by now, leaves Buffy sitting all by her lonesome, at a bar that I didn't want to be at, with my friends long gone, sipping on that last martini that I shouldn't have had. Not because I drank and went joyriding or anything, or because I woke up in some strange guy's bed, but because it was that last martini that made me JUST drunk enough to convince my friends that they had to drive me home, which caused me to go to bed early, leaving that _very_ important report unfinished, my alarm for the next day unset, and Buffy, once again, lying in bed alone, drunk, and single.

Which caused me to get up in a frenzy as I realized I was a good half hour late already (with a headache that threatened to crack my head open no less), hit my head on the sink when I was looking for my rarely used hairdryer, forced me to skip breakfast (and my morning coffee), pack my bags in a rush, and thanks to a surprise two-minute call from my friends in question to check that I was alright- forget what little of the report I had done on my kitchen table.

Yippee. What a fun way to start the day.

So here I am, searching desperately through my purse for the house key that is no doubt on my nightstand, wishing I hadn't lost the spare, while my meeting is going on without me and I'm standing in the hall once again, making a complete fool of myself. I hear my neighbour cackle as she walks by, she never has liked me much; ever since I tripped and spilt my morning coffee on her my first week here in New York. Of course I was again, running late for work, and she had bumped into _me_. I hear her snickering outside her doorway; the miserable old hag.

Looking at my watch and realizing that I was now an hour late, I give up on my hunt for that small little house key that I never attached to my key ring, and took off down the hall, doing my best to fish out some change for a cab as I move down the elevator of my apartment building. Cursing once again as I find only a few nickels, I turn my full attention to my bag, rummaging through it as I quickly move through the front hall and to the entrance, leading to the steps that I didn't bother to look at.

So I didn't see the neat little coin stuck to the third step.

Or the small glistening coming from a frozen patch of ice just on the sidewalk.

Before I know what had happened, I feel my (high-heeled) feet slip out from under me, my eyes widening in shock as my body whips backwards. In a split second I close my eyes and cringe, waiting for the contact that would make my oh-so nifty morning complete.

I'm more than a little shocked when it doesn't come.

So shocked, in fact, that I didn't feel the strong arms that were now wrapped around me, holding me not-too far from the ground.

After a few moments of lying frozen in the stranger's arms (and no doubt making an idiot of myself for what seems like the millionth time today), I carefully crack an eye open, followed soon by the other. My mouth goes agape at the sight that greets me. Holding me is a man that would put the word "gorgeous" to shame, someone who is so sinfully hot that his eyes alone should be outlawed. His short, dark hair is spiked up in an 'I just got out of bed yet I'm still sexy' look, he's dressed in a dark red shirt and a leather jacket, his strong features slightly flushed from the cold winter air. And his eyes; chocolatey brown pools that you could loose yourself in all too well, and never have any desire to find your way out of.

I've died and gone to heaven.

"Wow, if this is heaven- I could get used to being dead."

Well, apparently my vocal skills aren't affected, yay for that.

A twinkle of laughter flickers through his eyes, his lips twist into a smirk that unknowingly invokes imagery that I KNOW is illegal in at all fifty states- if I plead guilty can he be my cellmate?

His lips are moving, what's that you say? Will I come to bed with you? Sure, just tell me where and how about this side of now? I am such a slut, no, sex slave? Yeah, I could work with that- okay, Wow! WHAT. A. VOICE. Oh wait, why is he staring at me like that? Does he want me to answer? I was supposed to listen? Damn, damn, damn….

"W- what?"

Great way to charm him there Buff, show him that you're not only stupid you're also deaf…oooh! Is that another smile? Yes, we have hot-guy smileage! Go me!

"You're not dead, here, let me help you up." He says, and I actually manage to register what he's saying.

Hey! Not dead? What does he mean 'not dead'? I have to be! I had a whole bunch of plans worked out! With fluffy clouds and chocolate and a really nifty hot tub and- OW! Okay, not –ouch- not dead, dead can't hurt this much.

He just managed to steady me before my not so un-painful ankle acts up, and I find myself once again in his arms and all too close to the ground.

"You okay?" he asks, in that oh-so sultry voice.

"Yeah, my ankle is just a bit ow. No biggie."

Ow? No biggie? What, am I five?

"Here, sit down, I'll take a look at it." He sets me down on a (very cold) step, and carefully looks at my ankle. "Just a minor twist, you should be fine."

Twisted? No, never would have guessed.

"Oh. Okay… are you a doctor or something?"

He laughs,

"No, I was just a royal klutz growing up. And for the first time in my life I'm glad because as a result, I have good reflexes."

He carefully massages my ankle, I mentally pat myself on the back for the barley suppressed moan that threatens to escape me.

"Yeah, uh thanks for- that." I say, referring to my less-than graceful plunge.

He smiles, carefully helping me on to my feet again; I'm astonished to find that my ankle is painless. Wow, hey, you know I've had this really bad aching just around my-

"No problem, your ankle any better?"

I nod, giving him a small smile.

"Yeah, thanks for- whatever it is you did there. And for you know- saving my neck, wouldn't have been the funnest thing in the world to die in a tragic ice incident."

He laughs again.

"No problem, I'm all for the… neck-saving and wow, did I mention I get really lame when in the presence of a beautiful woman? I'm honestly a lot better at flirting on a normal, day to day basis."

Flirting? Beautiful? HAAAALLELUIAH!

A blush creeps across my face.

"I see… so on a _normal_ day, if you'd saved the life of a _very_ interesting woman who just _happens_ to be single, what do you think you'd do?"

There's that smirk again, damn it's going to be the end of me.

"Well," he said, moving a step closer so he's looking over me, "I'd probably ask her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee, _hypothetically_ of course."

"Of course." I say, giving him a smirk of my own. "But you might want to be careful, a girl could take that as an invitation."

"Hmm, well maybe that was kinda the point."

I smile, peering down at my watch for a second. Hour and a half late; work- right, where I must go, so as not to get fired, but you know I am _over an hour_ late…

"I have some time." I say, smiling.

Nyah well, my boss will understand, if not- gorgeous here looks successful; maybe he's in need of a personal assistant? Pretty please?

"Well that's always a good sign. And I happen to know a great place not too far from here." He says with a smile, slowly starting down the sidewalk.

I smile back, following him.

"You don't say? Well in that case, lead the way my mystery savoir."

He laughs and we start down the street. I hold out my hand to him.

"I'm Buffy by the way, Buffy Summers."

He smirks, shaking my hand (and lingering a **–score!-** extra few moments).

"Angel."

I can't help my laugh at the irony, somehow not surprised at all.

So we walk down the street, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist, laughing at the odd joke and flirting shamelessly; feeling more like lifelong friends than practically strangers. Scratch that, lifelong more- than friends, because as my pals have reminded me endlessly for the last year; I _seriously_ need to get laid. I sneak a glance at him again, catching the undeniable glint in his eyes that's telling me he's thinking along the same lines. We're mature, responsible adults after all; who says we can't be horny, swoony, teenagers once in a while? (Or _still_- horny and swoony _adults_, whatever floats your boat). Either way, what a fun way to start the day!

Every now and then, people do unquestionably smart things.

Mine, in this case, was that last martini.

The End

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**Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW!**

crystalix


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